


Commitment

by bip2



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band), 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV)
Genre: "I Do" Perfume LYJ, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Bottom!Yanjun, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Only mentioned though, Pining, Praise Kink, Top!Zhangjing, lol it's not mutual yet bitches, lowkey tho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-05-27 19:23:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15031562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bip2/pseuds/bip2
Summary: Lin Yanjun has loved the same person for his entire life, forced Sunday dinners at his house being the most they ever interact anymore.When Zhangjing flees town as a runaway that summer, Yanjun spends his sunny days trying to understand if he really loved Zhangjing or just the mask that the other boy put up for every one else.





	1. Dinners At The Lin's

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really sorry about being inactive..... my laptop broke and now I'm on a road trip. Anyways I think this was a prompt request for someone on stan twit, but I can't remember who. :/ 
> 
> They basically wanted a dominant Zhangjing for once and this is also ...... 21 days late

\--

Zhangjing looks down at the white table cloth under his white china plate, the shining silverware, and the perfectly folded napkin and scrowls. The food is cooked just the way he likes it no thanks to his  hosts; as always their staff handles everything from the fare to the refill of water right when he needs it. Amongst all the white he sticks out like a sore thumb in his light blue flannel, a gift from his favorite Drama twink, Cai Xukun, and artfully ripped light washed jeans. But he’s never really fit in with this sort of crowd anyways. 

As per usual, the Lin’s have had the You’s over for Sunday dinner, just like they have for Zhangjing’s entire life. Every week his entire family piles into their ecologically friendly hybrid and drive the two blocks over to the same white house that rests at the end of a cul de sac, to eat the same dinner with the same boring people week after week. Said people are the Lin’s, a family of three, just like his, who attend the same church and have the most “darling” little boy named Yanjun otherwise known as “Junnie”, who is only a mere two years younger than him. 

Yanjun, is the greatest waste of a good body Zhangjing has ever seen. The brunette is on the varsity basketball team, his golden skin is stretched over muscles that pop out even now as he hands his mother a plate of bland ass green beans, perfectly contrasted by his rolled up white button up’s sleeves. He’s taller than Zhangjing, which while annoying also compliments his   lean figure, that somehow isn’t too skinny. He knows for a fact the boy also has a decent pair of abs from the few times their shared youth group has been forced to go to a water park as a bonding activity, and his jersey has flown up enough times during the games Zhangjing’s been forced to attend that he can picture his v-line without effort. 

Normally he’d be up on that like no one’s business, as Zhangjing has never been one to turn down a free meal, but Yanjun is his one exception. There’s hundreds of reasons why screwing around with the younger boy is a bad idea: the possibility of his parents finding out, he’s younger than him, they’re both in strict households, but the biggest reason is his stupid ass jokes. Case in point, Zhangjing rolls his eyes as he tunes back into the conversation and drags his gaze away from it’d been tracing the outline of Yanjun’s shoulders. 

“Son”, Mr. Lin starts, his large business man hands reaching to land on one of the shoulders he been admiring  looking at, making said shoulders look almost fragile in comparison, “Why don’t you tell us one of your hilarious jokes?”

“Oh…. hmm”, Yanjun exhales and looks down at the table as if in thought. He’s seated directly across from Zhangjing, all the You’s are on one side of the table, the Lin’s, the other, just like always. “What do you get when you mix a dog and a rose?”

And just like always, no one had any answers to give. Zhangjing waited for him to provide the punchline, which would probably, like every time, fail to make him even crack a smile while it would make the younger boy adorably stupidly clap like a seal in merriment. 

“A collie-flower.” Yanjun finally said, perfectly white and straight teeth on display as he grinned with full dimples while the rest of the table politely laughed. The only person who seemed to actually like the joke was Mr. Lin, and the only person who didn’t even bother trying to pretend it was funny was Zhangjing. Every single fucking Sunday at the end of dinner, because the Lin’s didn’t believe in desert (a clear indication that they were the bane of humanity, as stated by Dinghao), Mr. Lin would have Yanjun demonstrate his clear lack of ability to be funny. And every Sunday Zhangjing would feel a bit of his soul die when he realized that he’d been listening to the coldest jokes in the word, for the past 18 years. 

Zhangjing made eye contact with his mother, pleading without words if they could leave this boring house and family and go home. And just like with every Sunday, his mother turned to Mrs. Lin and asked if the adults were ready to go into the parlour. Both sets of parents agree, and without another word the four adults shuffle out of the dining room, leaving the two of them alone. Sunday after sunday always finds them here, Zhangjing always sighing and giving a slight nod to the look Yanjun always gives to the stairs, and together they head up to his room. 

Routine, routine, routine, if he has his phone they’ll ignore each other as Zhangjing perches himself on Yanjun’s desk while the younger sits on his bed and texts faster than lightning to someone on the other line. But if he doesn’t, like tonight when his parents had taken it earlier in the day, luckily not checking his messages (though he wonders what the shock of seeing Xukun’s pierced brown nipples would have done to them) for being distracted during their preacher’s sermon, they’ll awkwardly chat. 

Their conversations can range from the utterly banal to ones filled with strange intrigue that’s almost enough to interest him into developing a deeper friendship with Yanjun, but it’s always never enough. These smooth white walls with their cream crown moulding have seen many a topic take a turn for the worse, where silence echoes in place of words and he feels chocolate colored eyes on the back of his neck, heavy like weights. 

Sometimes though, a spark will light up between them, and thin wrists feel the burn of his touch for hours after he tugs them towards him in a fit of giggles, their owner pouring over every brush of skin on skin. Sometimes Yanjun will be so silly he has to tease him, usually by being upset over someone dirtying his pristine white sneakers or by forgetting the second parts of words in his sentences. Most of the time however, they spend close to an hour exchanging little tidbits of their lives, snippets of his past combining in the water lily scented air with the fragments of Yanjun’s dreams for the future. It’s nice, these talks, they remind him of a time when they’d been younger and closer; when he’d begged to stay longer in this cold artic of a room, to spend more time with his “Junnie”. Junnie, a gift given by him out of pity to a younger boy whose friends were finally realizing that a kid that could never sleep over or hang out except at his own white mansion was no fun at all. 

Tonight is no different, he’s been letting Yanjun try to explain to him a math concept he’d only learned to ace the test last year and already forgotten. Too late he realizes when the usual pauses in between the younger boy’s words haven’t been filled with his usual soft tongue clicks, that when he looks up and meets an expectant gaze, he’s been asked a question. 

“What?” Zhangjing blinks, shaking his head slightly because even if he doesn’t really like Yanjun, it’s rude to just space out entirely. After all it’s not the other boy’s fault that he’s forced to come here, to invade his room; it’s more like they’re stuck in the same boat if anything. “Sorry, I didn’t hear what you said.”

“I was talking about a line in Romeo and Juliet, well a stanza is more like it-” Yanjun begins, but quickly cuts himself off when Zhangjing judgmentally raises an eyebrow at him, “I commented at how much detail Shakespeare put into it and how it seemed silly. Then I asked you how you would describe a kiss.” 

“It depends on the kiss” Zhangjing guessed, leaning further back into Yanjun’s spinny chair while the other boy scooted forward on top his bed to hear him,  legs crossed over each other, toes almost off edge, balance only kept by pressing them against his footboard. 

“What do you mean?” Yanjun asked, his head tilting to the side as he sounded out the question, coconut bangs flopping over with the movement. 

“Like if I’m using tongue or not.” Zhangjing stated bluntly, the endless questions from the younger about subjects like these usually made him a little short with him. But, since the mood was coaxing him into letting his guard down, he carefully tacked on another detail and watched for Yanjun’s reaction. “And if I’m kissing a boy… or a girl.”

“And-” Yanjun coughs into his hand, the sharp inhale that was a little too audible to Zhangjing when he’d said boy must’ve tickled his throat, “And if you’re kissing a boy?”

“Well if I’m kissing a boy, I usually brush our lips together first. Start out a little softer, going slower so we both get used to each other because if this topic came from the good ol’ R & J then they shouldn’t have had a lot of experience either. Then if things feel right I’d suck on his bottom lip, not too hard unless I want to… ” Zhangjing teeters off, they may have been cool when they were younger, but this is still the Lin house. “But only if.” 

Yanjun mutters something he can’t quite catch, suddenly the fact that the foot of the bed and the office chair are a mere feet apart becomes apparent to Zhangjing as he waits for the other to realize he didn’t hear him. It takes another beat before Yanjun looks back up at him from where his hands have fisted the duvet into tight, angry-looking swirls, he quietly  repeats, “What if you use tongue?”

“Then I usually initiate it by licking into his mouth, never too hard or with too much. Don’t want to be like a frog, but you can rub them against each other or shift the angle of your heads to deepen it.” Zhangjing peers at where the younger boy’s eyes look like they’re fluttering shut, Yanjun’s hanging off his every word like a lifeline. 

“Why, Junnie?” Zhangjing can’t help but tease him, the change in his voice looking like it startles the younger into looking directly at him. “Have you had your first kiss yet?”

“Of course I have!” Yanjun defends himself easily, seemingly flustered. It’s not really a fair question though, because Zhangjing is technically the boy’s first kiss, back when he was eight and Yanjun, six, when “Spin The Bottle” at birthday parties led to soda-sticky kisses on his cheeks and lips. He doesn’t count that of course, and right as he’s about to bring it up, Yanjun beats him to it by adding, “I’ve kissed Youlin.” 

“Dong Youlin?” Zhangjing’s surprised, it’s well known that the Dong girl doesn’t date any one in his grade, let alone a whole two years younger than her. “Really?” 

“Yes” Yanjun answers proudly, “She let me touch her chest.”

“And did you find anything you liked?” Zhangjing quizzes, his smile starting to expose his teeth as it widens when he scoots the office chair a little closer. 

Yanjun’s eyes dart down to the smaller space between them, and when he glances back up it’s to shyly shake his head. 

“Hmm…” Zhangjing hums, something making him scoot just a little more forward until his knees bump the footboard of Yanjun’s white wooden framed bed. It’s the same questionable urge that makes him ask, “Kiss any boys, Junnie ?” 

“...yes” Yanjun whispers, adam’s apple bobbing in his tanned throat as he ducks his head down to study his hands. 

“Who?” Zhangjing questions, his smile sliding off of his face faster than it crawled onto it. One of his hands reaches out, which looks even paler against the darker skin of his companion, gently cradling his wrist in his palm, feeling his pulse race against his piano trained finger tips. “Tell me.”

“Zhu Zhengting.” Yanjun confesses almost inaudibly but still managing to make his heart jump. 

“Zhu. Zheng. Ting.” Zhangjing slowly sounds out the captain of both the basketball and dance team’s name, letting the syllables drop off his tongue and wonders why it rankles his skin so much, this… interaction between them. The thought of the tall, elegant dancer, kissing a Lin, seems so off to him.  He meets Yanjun’s almost frightened gaze with his own steadfast one, hoping his face doesn’t reveal his suddenly racing heart. “Huh.”

They stay like that for a few seconds, knees only inches away from touching, hands almost holding, until the sound of heavy heels on the wooden staircase makes them lean away. Yanjun flinches from the sound, but it’s Zhangjing who drags his fingertips over the back of Yanjun’s hands as he pulls away. Something in him is reluctant to let go, this Sunday has changed what lies between them irrevocably. 

\--

A buzzing fan whips its blades slickly through the air, pushing around the same circulated scent of meat and bread that always clings to his clothes. There’s only a few customers, a construction crew member at the biggest table and a group of five middle schoolers crowded around the fridge where they keep the drinks. Sunshine burns his retinas as it filters through the windows facing the bustling street of his small town, pedestrians always looking down without a single smile up at another passing human. 

It’s almost a week later, Zhangjing’s working the cashier at the sandwich shop he works at, when a trio of younger boys walk in through the door. They choose the wooden high bar, the actual surface being aligned to the large store front windows and bar stools lining the only side one could sit at. There's only one boy that's familiar to him. 

Lin Yanjun is in his sandwich shop. Lin Yanjun is capable of wearing more than school uniforms (sports and daily) and all white Sunday dress. Apparently he can wear oversized grey turtle necks and basketball sneakers with white jeans, because of course. Once a Lin always a Lin. 

No amount of religious piety can convince Zhangjing that those jeans weren't made to outline every line of muscle in Yanjun's legs though, or that the turtleneck's long sleeves weren't supposed to go over the younger boy's hands so as to make cute sweater paws. 

He blinks as the two boys Yanjun walked in with leave, their stuff still remaining on the table while Yanjun seems content with texting on his phone instead of ordering something. It's a stupid detail that Zhangjing can't help but notice, Yanjun's fingers don't fly over the screen nearly as fast as they do when the duo is alone in Yanjun's room. Finally the younger seems finished, as he sets his phone down and scoops up a pile of change that was left on the table top. 

Oh no, Zhangjing's seen this before. The shop he works at makes large subs, but they cost a pretty penny too; most of the teens that walked in usually chipped in as many couldn't finish a sub by themselves. 

The familiar jingle of quarters and dimes in Yanjun's hands spells out "broke", despite Zhangjing knowing that the Lin's are more than well off. Yanjun walks so slowly to the counter, he assumes that maybe it's just parental fear that usually makes the other boy scurry so much; though the distracted expression on his face could also be blamed, seeing as how he's only looking at his other coworkers making sandwiches. Not once has he actually looked at the till machine, at him. 

It's almost kind of funny, the way Yanjun stumbles when he looks up. Their brown eyes meet, and as Zhangjing rattles of his memorized customer speech he swears he can see a slight tremor in his hands as the younger counts out the correct change. Zhangjing is still confirming his order, a single sub while inputting the charge into the cash register, as he watches the other boy's eyes widen in shock at the price reading. 

He makes a mini hill on the counter, frowns, and then pulls out a coin purse from seemingly nowhere. 

It's. Unfair. How. Cute. He's. Being. 

The tiny chibi face of a cute cat whose mouth works as an opening with the help of a zipper, is currently being invaded as Yanjun seems to quickly dig through it. More and more coins surface from its depths, and yet it seems like a Yanjun is still looking. Abruptly the younger boy looks up, biting (horribly distractingly) at full lips, and asks Zhangjing if he could wait. 

Confused, Zhangjing says sure and is immediately bewildered as Yanjun just fucking bolts out of the store. He's left his entire pile of change and cute coin purse on the counter right in front of him, and by Zhangjing's perfect "I've Worked Here For Too Godamn Long" employee sense, it doesn't look like enough to pay for the sandwich he ordered. 

From outside the store he can see, and almost hear, Yanjun shout at his friends who are across the street. The two boys come back, it looks like an exchange of money has occurred as Yanjun sprints back into the shop with some bills crumpled in his fist. 

Breathlessly he unceremoniously shoves them into Zhangjing's waiting palm, a flush from exertion (or embarrassment?) dusting his cheeks. Zhangjing can't help but raise his eyebrows as he slips the bills under the appropriate clips in the till. 

"Will that be all?" Zhangjing asks, following the proper procedure of making sure the order is finished before asking the customer to pay. You know, like he was supposed to. 

"Uh... yes" Yanjun smiles at him, stupid dimples denting his stupid soft looking cheeks. "Thank you."

"Of course" Zhangjing responds, taking the coins as Yanjun hands each of them to him, individually. Every time Yanjun's fingers drag slightly against his skin, he'd say the other didn't notice except he was pretty sure he did, since Yanjun kept flinching and blushing darker. "Would you like a receipt?" 

"No, it's alright." Yanjun answers, looking slightly down at Zhangjing. The tanner of the two was also the taller one, though only by a few centimeters. Zhangjing really didn't look forward to seeing how tall the other boy would grow, because he was sure that Yanjun hadn't hit his final growth spurt. 

"Okay, then your order should be ready in a few minutes." Zhangjing sighs, passing the order slip to his coworkers next to him. Yanjun's still fucking standing there though, like an idiot. "Do you want this to go or for here?" 

"Oh, yeah." Yanjun keeps smiling at him, with a slightly dazed look in his eyes. When the silence stretches out for long he blinks rapidly and quickly says, "For here."

"Right..." Zhangjing trails off, noting how previously the younger boy had looked like he would never move, Now looks like he wants nothing more than to bolt. Absentmindedly he cocks his head to hear someone in the back drop something, as Zhangjing turns to investigate he remarks with a grin, "Cute coin purse."

It doesn't make his smile widen at all, the adorable squeak he can hear from behind him and the confirming jangle of metal that let's him know Yanjun definitely dropped the purse in shock. Nope, nada. 

A few minutes later, he finds himself walking over to where Yanjun is seated at the bar. Three bags lay against the window, and the younger boy is hunched over typing on his phone. Zhangjing pointedly ignores the way his mind picks up that he's texting at the same speed he normally does when they hang out in his room. Since Yanjun hasn't acknowledged his presence, and he can see enough of his screen to recognize the characters of his own name (and he wants to avoid thinking about what that means) Zhangjing clears his throat. 

Startled Yanjun's head immediately shoots up, and upon seeing him the younger man seems to tense. Zhangjing loosens his "customer" smile into one more like his normal grin, and lifts up the bag in his hand, "Your sandwich?" 

Yanjun softly says "Thank you" as he reaches out and holds the bag by the base as he takes it from Zhangjing's hands. 

For some reason though, it looks like the bag is too heavy or maybe Yanjun's holding it as tightly as he should have been, because the bag almost tips out of his grip. Zhangjing's left hand darts out to steady it, making eye contact with Yanjun as he guides the bag to the table. 

"Wouldn't want that to fall, do we?" Zhangjing teases, while in response Yanjun just timidly nods. 

Zhangjing's almost disappointed by the other's lack of reaction, but he remembers the lollipops in his pocket are there for a reason. He pulls them out and holds them up, he explains "It's our policy to offer these with every order. There's already one in your bag, but do you want these for your friends?"

"S-sure" Yanjun accepts, one hand coming to pluck them from Zhangjing's. Once again, their fingers brush against each other. "Thank you."

"I thought you could never hang out with any one out side of school?" Zhangjing questions, finally realizing why Yanjun's presence is bothering him so much. Even from here, he can see Yanjun swallow nervously as he stares down at the lollipops he'd set down on the table. 

"My parents think I'm at an extra practice for basketball, that one of their parents will drop me off afterwards." Yanjun sounds out his reply slowly, like he isn't sure if he should be telling Zhangjing this at all. Jarring quickly from the pace he'd spoken at before, he adds, "Don't tell them though, they wouldn't like me doing this."

"Do you often do things your parents wouldn't like, Junnie?" Zhangjing can't help but ask, of all things to risk being caught for lying about, going to a sandwich shop he's never been to seems incredibly high risk. 

Yanjun looks like he's considering his next words, weighing them in his mind before letting the syllables fall from his rosy lips. Said lips quirk into a soft smile, that forces his plump cheeks upwards and makes his eyes shine like beacons into his own, he says, "Only if they're worth it." 

Zhangjing hums, suddenly caught off balance by the way the sunlight tints every single one of Yanjun's features golden. It's too perfect and so he retreats back to the register without responding, and ignores the way the whole encounter made his heart beat faster in his chest. 

\--

It's Sunday dinner at the Lin's again, Zhangjing's wearing all white for once, his parents had forced him into said get up saying that he needed to look "more presentable". Personally, He's never thought of wearing blue jeans and a white t-shirt as sloppy, but whatever. 

So for this dinner only, he almost matches with Yanjun. A pair of white jeans without rips (Xukun's horrible sense of what was too much skin exposed would not approve) and the same white t-Shirt he'd been wearing earlier. Zhangjing has never been too fussy of a child, preferring to go behind his parents' backs rather than beg for what he wants, so it's expected that he doesn't complain about this odd choice in style; because really what does the difference in Jean color make? 

The Lin's have chosen to serve pasta with red sauce tonight, regrettably because he's a messy eater and marinera sauce stains so horrible on white. As always, the main course is on one big ass plate that every one has to pass around the table, and as always, Yanjun still sits directly across from him. 

The plate is being passed around, the horrible usual habit of leaving him to serve himself last is continued tonight as well. Yanjun makes eye contact with him and smiles, holding the huge platter of pasta in one hand without any strain visible on his face. When Zhangjing takes it from him, he almost drops it even with both hands supporting it, the plate is that heavy. 

Yanjun's hands immediately help him set it down on his side of the table, going so far as to stand up slightly and lean over to aid him. Zhangjing's cheeks slightly warm since the tiny screech Yanjun's chair let out as he scooted it backwards has drawn the attention of the entire room. 

Yanjun stays standing, as if in a daze that he quickly snaps out of, almost cockily he smirks as he sits down and says, "Don't want that falling now, do we?" 

Has Zhangjing really sunken so low that he's willingly wearing all white and getting teased by someone two years younger than him? 

"Shut your mouth before I put something inside of it, Baby." Zhangjing meant it as a warning, meant to stab his spaghetti fork through the air, and honest to god was only pointing out their age difference. He really really didn't mean it to come out that way, but fortunately their parents had tuned out their conversation in favor for discussing what dress to buy for his cousin's baptism. 

That means it's only him who gets to see Yanjun's cheeks blush the prettiest pink at his words, his entire body freezing and breath hitching. It's too much of a reaction to something not even that dirty enough that their parents didn't pick up on it, and it's too godamn distracting. Their eyes meet for the smallest of moments before Yanjun seems to swallow nervously and asks to be excused from the table. 

As the younger boy practically flees the dining room, Zhangjing idly wonders just how far he can make that blush go. 

After that, every Sunday dinner becomes more interesting with how creative Zhangjing gets in slipping gay tension into everyday things. 

Since calling Yanjun "baby" seems to get the most reaction out of him, Zhangjing uses it to get his attention when he needs to pass the pitcher or when he needs something. It never fails to make Yanjun's cheeks flood with that exact same shade of pretty pink. 

 

But Zhangjing tires of that quickly, he finds new methods to fluster Yanjun. He makes his eyes go half lidded every time they make eye contact, he makes sure their fingers brush against each other at every opportunity, and he always remembers to give Yanjun a "good bye hug" every time they leave his house; Zhangjing literally feels the way it always makes the other's breath halt from where his hand wraps around the back of Yanjun's neck to press him down to his own height. 

 

Through it all, Yanjun never tells him to stop or looks uncomfortable. The fact that he's being so docile about it is honestly what spurs Zhangjing to keep pushing him, the thoughts that surface late at night keep him restless. He can't explain the urge he feels, it's the same type of feeling that would drive him to chuck rocks into a still pond or smudge perfectly applied lipstick. 

\--

It's the last dinner he'll have at the Lin's for a while, two days earlier he'd finally graduated. 

The party he'd gone to afterwards was insane, because although never being a hugely popular person everyone in school knew him. Thus he ended up attending what would later become known as the wildest party their small town had ever been privy to, and it was all thrown in his honor. 

Zhangjing had arrived with his best friend Dinghao at the most popular person in their grade's house. Xukun had absolutely lost his shit the minute Zhangjing had agreed to party on the last day of school, the elder was notorious for only sneaking out to clubs and turning down house party invites at every opportunity. The fact that he was going, and the major event that had just happened in all of their lives, had apparently inspired the genius twink to host the biggest rager ever. Lights danced while pop music was blasted out of speakers Zhangjing hadn't known Xukun owned, despite being a literal prodigy he didn't know how to not wreck his own home every time he threw a party. 

He'd ended up having a good time, letting cheap alcohol hit the back of his throat, and kissing Xukun silly as a thank you. Their friendship wasn't exactly with benefits, Just That out of all the closeted gays in their high school he was the least depressing and most friendly, and so sometimes Xukun will send him nudes for affection and attention; and sometimes Zhangjing will get on his knees in dirty club bathrooms and suck him off. If only because he's a singer and he can appreciate how beautiful Xukun sounds when he's begging for release, wanting to fuck his mouth, and sounding oh so desperate. 

The resulting lecture and technical grounding he'd received from his parents when he'd gotten caught sneaking in with fresh hickies on his neck on the one night in their town that all 5 patrol cars had been called to a neighborhood they knew his friend lived in, was inconvenient at best and horribly depressing that they could still so easily take away his freedom like that, at worst. 

 

What ever reasons he had for continuing to fluster Yanjun, at the very least it kept him from dying of boredom. His parents had taken his phone, his laptop, and forbade him from leaving the house, all because Xukun was a little too into marking the milky skin on his neck with his teeth. Luckily though, they didn't know it was a boy that had done it to him, or else Zhangjing doubted that they'd ever let him out of the house again. 

The Lin's have decided to serve his favorite food in honor of his graduation, salmon with rice and lemons. It's not really his favorite but more like the only meal their staff can make that has any flavor. Zhangjing's mother, despite being friends with Mrs. Lin, has always expressed her disappointment in them for letting another person cook for their family instead of cooking their own culture's meals. The cuisine isn't really what his attention's focused on though, he's paying more attention to how Yanjun refuses to meet his eyes. 

And for the first time since he was a chubby six year old and cried at the thought of not having something sweet to finish his meal, the Lin parents address the subject of dessert; of course it's only to tease him about his weight. Zhangjing has regretted ever being naive enough to trust his mother with his body image issues, within a few days his cringey middle school problems had become the main gossip subject of their church circle. He doubts any of the Lin's have had to deal with insecurities, they all have the same round puppy eyes and clear gold skin. Said puppy eyes are focused on the empty plate in front of him, like they've been all dinner. 

The parents leave the table once again, and for probably the final time Lin Yanjun tilts his head at the stairs, somehow managing to look perfectly above his head instead of st his face. The wooden stairs creak under their weight as they make their way to his room. Zhangjing doesn't have his phone tonight obviously, but Yanjun doesn't seem like he wants to talk to him anyways. 

Privately Zhangjing wonders if the slight pangs of sadness he's feeling in his chest are because he'll actually miss this quiet room once he's gone off to college. And deeper within his heart where he'll never admit, he wonders if he'll miss seeing Yanjun once a week. The answers he refuses to consider all float in the space between where Yanjun sits on the edge and where he stands awkwardly, for once not wanting to go sit by his desk, not wanting to be that far apart so he pretends to study the painting of a rabbit on the wall. 

The sad tinted silence that hangs in the room is broken by what he's pretty sure is a fake cough from Yanjun, but it gets him to turn around and face him. Yanjun's gaze is focused somewhere on his neck, and belatedly he realizes that rubbing at his throat nervously the whole dinner has probably taken off the concealer he'd blended into his skin and that the hickies Xukun made are probably on display. 

"Who gave those to you?" Yanjun asks, his voice as gentle and soft as always but the question piercing without him meaning to. 

"Are you going to tell your parents?" Zhangjing responds with his chin jutting out unintentionally, it's not like he's proud of the marks, but something within him feels defensive. 

"No!" Yanjun blurts, his hands rising in a placating gesture, "I just wanted to know, honest."

"Alright..." Zhangjing peers curiously at the younger boy, but answers anyways, "It was Xukun." 

"Oh... are you dating him?" Yanjun replies timidly, his spine curling in as he finally drops his eyes to the side and away from Zhangjing. 

"No, we're just friends." Zhangjing says, oddly enough Yanjun seems to become happier at his answer. His reaction sparks something in Zhangjing's chest, prompting him to ask "Why do you ask?" as he takes a seat next to Yanjun. 

"Just curious." Yanjun says simply, his cheeks are flushing that pretty pretty pink and he's nibbling at his lips and their thighs are touching but he hasn't moved away. Suddenly this beautiful boy in front of him, dressed in white in an all white room, is the most tempting creature Zhangjing's ever seen and he just wants to touch him. (To wreck him) 

"Pretty... you're really pretty like this." Zhangjing remarks, his hand moving without thought to run his fingers through surprisingly soft hair and cupping Yanjun's sharp jaw, his thumb stroking his warm and blushing cheek. Yanjun still hasn't pulled away, in fact he does the opposite, his brown eyes fluttering closed as he leans into Zhangjing's touch. 

"Yanjun, do you like it when I do things like this?" Zhangjing questions, because as tempting as the younger boy is right now he wants to know he won't be crossing a line. His other hand rises from where it was resting on the bed and strokes Yanjun's bangs. "Junnie?"

Yanjun's eyes open immediately, all in a rush he breathes out, "Of course I do!" 

Of course I do 

Zhangjing's hand has settled parallel on Yanjun's cheeks to his other, he cups his stupid squishy face in his hands and pulls him closer as he leans in. He only wants one kiss from the younger boy, just to give him some closure after these many weeks of teasing. 

It's warm and perfectly chaste, just simple brushes of their lips, Zhangjing doesn't want to pull away just yet. It would have probably stayed chaste too, if Yanjun hadn't made the breathiest little sound right against his lips. The small noise made heat flash through his body, and he applied more pressure against Yanjun's lips. 

The younger boy responded eagerly as Zhangjing nipped at his full bottom lip then soothed the slight sting with his tongue. Soft moans kept falling from those lips and Zhangjing kept chasing them, licking hotly into Yanjun's mouth and sucking at the plump lips he'd been staring at for months. 

Yanjun was now firmly pinned to the bed underneath him, one of his hands was tangled in the younger boy's hair while the other roamed. Zhangjing expected him to be worse at this, but what Yanjun lacked in skill he made up for by being extremely responsive and enthusiastic to every movement Zhangjing made. 

White buttons flashed under the bright lights of Yanjun's room as Zhangjing rucked up a pristine ivory button up to place his palm flat against Yanjun's abs. Tracing the dips of his hip bones made Yanjun try to clench his thighs shut in reflex, merely boxing in Zhangjing's lower body. 

The position wasn't quite right, Yanjun's crotch was closer to his belly button which didn't really bode well for grinding later on. It did mean that when Zhangjing's deft fingers pinched and tweaked at his nipple, Zhangjing could feel Yanjun's dick twitch through his jeans as he arched off the duvet and actually whimpered into Zhangjing's mouth. 

"Sensitive?" Zhangjing whispered against his lips as he took a moment to breathe and slip his other hand away from Yanjun's hair and under his shirt. Yanjun nodded, squirming underneath him as he tugged just a little harder to see what Yanjun would do. 

"Jun, that's pretty hot." He groaned, reconnecting their lips not minding the excess salvia that came from Yanjun not really knowing how to kiss like this and loving the happy little noise Yanjun made at the praise. Zhangjing hauled his body so their crotches were aligned, and just as he was about to grind down he heard the clip-clop of heavy high heels on the Lin's wooden staircase. 

"Cock blocks" Zhangjing muttered as he pulled away, looking over Yanjun's mussed up hair from where his hands had fisted in it, the way he flushed at his word choice, the alluring shine of those petal pink lips, and the fact that his shirt lay bunched up near the collar as he'd pushed it out of the way without taking the time to remove it. Moving off of him, Zhangjing went quickly to the bedroom door just as Mrs. Lin knocked on it. 

"He's in the bathroom, wait and we'll be right down?" Zhangjing proposed, sugar sweet lies passing through his mouth as easily as they were bought by Yanjun's mother. She walked away and Zhangjing waited until he saw her reach the bottom step before closing the door and turning around. 

And what a sight he saw. 

Yanjun looked positively enticing with his kiss bruised lips, still hard nipples slightly tenting the fabric of his button up, and that pretty blush of his only worsened by the possibility of them almost getting caught. It was too much for Zhangjing, so he speedily positioned himself between the younger boy's thighs, and gave him one last deep and searing kiss before pulling away, a string of saliva turning silver under the light and Yanjun's pink blush being the only spots of color in that all white room. 

Yanjun blinked up at him, mouth opened already by pants but also probably about to ask him a question. Zhangjing smiled, ran the back of his knuckle over flawless cheekbones, and said, "See you in college." 

Then he detached himself from every remanent of his childhood, walked out the door, out of the Lin's house to his family's car, and never looked back. 

And if he'd bothered to, he would have been met the gaze of someone who'd loved him ever since sweet soda flavored kisses in the backyard and a friendship that fell apart by time's unraveling.


	2. Searching In Melodies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yanjun learns more about Zhangjing, and tries to understand who he was past the Sundays at the Lin House

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> despite this chapter being five k, I still have to add more to this before we get to the college part of this. 
> 
> what i want to do is to explore the idea of how some people can love someone they barely know anything about, and how disillusionment can affect their feelings. 
> 
> there might be some bad typos in here, i just wanted to get it out here, I'll fix it later

Yanjun’s new boss takes her sweet time showing him around the shop, Ms. Umu gives him an in depth tour for about an hour. She shows him where the cleaning supplies are kept, tells Yanjun which key is for which door and cabinet, and explains in a surprisingly serious tone about the dangers of letting the sandwich supplies spoil. It’s a little intense, and much more than what he expected to learn his first day of his very first job being like, but at the same time, the shop doesn’t seem so bad. 

 

Ms. Umu lets him shadow her for the rest of the work day, she makes several different kinds of sandwiches and hands him a laminated sheet with cute infographics on what combo of ingredients makes the kind of sandwich that’s being ordered; she also tells him with a wink how little of an expensive component he can put on without upsetting a customer. It’s a Tuesday evening, so not many people are stopping by for sandwiches. 

 

Yanjun looks around the shop, noting that Ms. Umu’s had the walls painted since the last time he was in here, now they’re a froggy green and to avoid some kind of copyright accusation, any trace of SubWay yellow is banished. Instead, the accent color is a very pretty light blue, it reminds him of a certain boy’s favorite pair of jeans. At least, Yanjun thought that they his favorite, since he wore them so frequently at Sunday dinner. 

 

A week later, Ms. Umu was showing him a locker in the backroom. The red lockers were all on wall, and the one that was to be his was on the bottom row and had a dent in the door. The combination to the lock was obviously a date, 19940919, and one that was familiar to Yanjun for some reason. With his apron and uniform already on, Yanjun felt like a real employee, complete with his full training from Ms. Umu. 

 

Speaking of her, Ms. Umu instructed him to throw away any trash he found in the locker as she walked out the door, simply saying that the old employee might have left some things in there. Alone in the cramped, slightly smelly room, Yanjun knelt down and twisted the lock, which opened with a solid clunk sound, and swung open the locker. 

 

Inside the locker was a black hoodie, a tube of chapstick, a small notebook, keys on a lanyard, and a small pile of papers. As well as a couple of photos taped to the back wall, shots of unfamiliar landscapes and groups of people, with only one boy being recognizable.  Normally, Yanjun would’ve been annoyed to throw so much stuff away, but instead, a small smile grew on his face the minute he saw the chapstick. 

 

This was Zhangjing’s old locker. 

 

“Lanolips” was the only thing that healed Zhangjing’s lips, keeping them constantly healed, and Yanjun thought, reminiscing on the last time he’d seen the older boy, constantly soft. The fact that a half used tube of it was in this locker just confirmed that it was his, as was the fact the big hoodie had his crush’s name written on its tag in faded washer-black-turned-purple Sharpie. 

 

It was just his luck that he had managed to get his crush’s old locker, even though he hadn’t planned for it, the coincidence made his heart hum. Yanjun resolved to look at it all later, quickly putting his stuff inside, and closing the locker. He had work to do. 

 

\--

 

The summer before his senior year had started with a huge scandal, his crush becoming the most famous runaway in their town’s history. On the first Monday of the summer, exactly eight hours since Zhangjing had given Yanjun the best kiss of his life, the older boy had pulled up to his house in a rather noisy Prius. The previous rain during the night was nothing compared to the storm of emotions that swept through Yanjun every time he thought of that morning. 

 

Yanjun had been awake, his habit of waking up early at 4 am to work out had given him the opportunity to see Zhangjing step out of the car, and walk up to the Lin family mailbox. He wedged an envelope in between the semaphore and the cold metal, the wind ruffling the the thin paper. Zhangjing’s fluffy curls were hidden under a beanie, looking so small from the height of Yanjun’s room. 

 

For a split second, he could have sworn that Zhangjing had looked up to his window, but Yanjun had ducked down to the floor so fact that he bruised his knee in his haste. When he had looked up, the strangely chilly weather had made the tip of his nose cold when Yanjun had pressed it against the smooth glass, looking out onto an empty street. He had missed his chance to say goodbye. 

 

Yanjun had bolted down the stairs, forgetting to soften his movement to minimize noise, and ran out onto his front walk-up. The mailbox was lacking its spectacular adornment, where was the note Zhangjing had surely left for him??? 

 

Yanjun’s father had scolded him a few days later for staining his shirt with blue ink, saying that he needed to be more careful. Yanjun didn’t have the daring to tell him that he’d clutched a sopping wet letter from the love of his life while kneeling in the gutter outside their house, and cursing the wind from knocking the paper from its safe perch and into the temporary stream below.  He wished the ink had been as indelible in the letters Zhangjing had formed, instead of a massive blue blob in the middle of his oversized grey t-shirt. 

 

Still, the shirt with a blue blue blemish became his favorite thing to wear at night, as Yanjun struggled to sleep in a town without his favorite person in it. Likewise, he was sure Zhangjing’s parents were also having a hard time sleeping, it seemed that Yanjun was not the only person Zhangjing had left a note for. Although he hoped that his letter wasn’t as harsh as the almost literal tongue lashing Zhangjing had written for his folks, calling them out on numerous offenses and boldly stating that if they ever wanted to see their son again, they should learn to be more accepting. 

 

It was stupid of Yanjun to care so much, it wasn’t like they were dating, but the younger boy still considered them to be somewhat friends and Yanjun wished he had done more to help Zhangjing. Maybe then the older boy wouldn’t have left so abruptly, maybe he would have gotten his answer to why Zhangjing had finally decided to kiss him, and maybe whatever Zhangjing had written in that letter could have been whispered against his mouth, loving words pressed into his skin. At least, Yanjun had hoped it was a kind letter, after all he never got to read it. 

 

Now as he worked behind the same cash register Zhangjing had once teased him at, Yanjun wondered if what he was doing was creepy. The job paid well, but the only reason he had applied was because Zhangjing’s open letter to his parents had made Yanjun realize how little he really knew about his crush, so he worked at this sandwich shop all in an attempt to understand him. 

 

The little bits of the information he had gleaned from his colleagues made Yanjun happy enough; apparently he wrapped subs in the same way Zhangjing had, had a matching hate for pickled yellow peppers, and he finally knew why Zhangjing’s hands were always strongly smelling of lemons, it was the hand soap in the shop’s bathroom. Piece by piece the experience of working at the shop had begun to paint a more complete picture of the man Yanjun had loved for years. 

 

It’s not like they never talked when Zhangjing was forced to be at his house, Yanjun knows somethings about the older boy that he doubted anyone else knew. For example, he knows how Zhangjing takes his coffee, which is none at all because his crush was actually a tea person. He knew the reason behind why Zhangjing was a tea person was because Zhangjing’s father had a habit of adding whiskey to his coffee in the mornings, which always led to Mr. You being just slightly buzzed all day. As a result, his son detested the drink and Yanjun made a habit of gifting Zhangjing his favorite teas for his birthday.  

Yanjun knew how well Zhangjing could sing before anyone else did, and he knew the best way to calm the other boy down right before a performance, having his presence being forced upon Zhangjing constantly had taught Yanjun a lot about the way he behaved. He knew Zhangjing liked to hold his hands during award ceremonies for singing and piano competitions that his own friends didn’t bother attending, while Yanjun was tugged along by his parents to almost every one. Yanjun can summon the feeling of Zhangjing tapping out the rhythms of the piece he had performed that day on the back of his palm, he’s made a playlist out of everything Zhangjing’s ever put on stage. 

 

But now he knew more about Zhangjing in a casual sense, the notebook in the locker had a few entries about different locations. And so, armed with his driver’s license and bike, because Yanjun knew his parents would be too nosy about where he was driving the family Subaru to, he had biked his way to the outskirts of their local wildlife preserve. 

 

There he had found an easy-to-climb rock, that allowed him to overlook a steep hillside, hidden in a thicket of trees, their leaves already brown and dry from the summer heat. Yanjun was sitting there now, in a shallow dip that was probably a perfect fit for Zhangjing, and as a result parts of his legs had to dangle dangerously off the rock face to make room for his taller and longer body. It was the third time he had come here, it being the first entry in Zhangjing’s notebook. 

 

The older boy had simply inscribed, “Sherman’s Rock, a good place to think, 3 miles from the east entrance.” Yanjun thinks that his crush had excellent taste, he’d memorized the sandwich charts for work easily in this little nook, the sounds of nature blocking out any distractions, save the occasional wild bird call. Today he was reading a book, smoothing his thumbs over the paper and getting a slight ache in his hands from holding the novel at the perfect angle while simultaneously preventing the wind from turning his pages. 

 

It was some kind of romance novel, normally not Lin Yanjun’s cup of tea as he already knew firsthand what hopeless love felt like and didn’t require a constant taste of other people’s struggles, but it was something a customer had left on a table at work and he didn’t want to waste time on going home to get his own reading materials. The story itself was pretty cheesy, what was making him laugh was the way someone had annotated the passages: little faces with heart eyes at cute bits and eyerolls at particularly cringe worthy smut scenes, exclamation points at the obvious plot twists, as well as small notes about how the customer had felt about the scenes. 

“She should leave him for his wife” was his favorite of the moment, located on the penultimate page and written in pink-peachy gel pen. An apt conclusion for a whirlwind romance ending with murder and the main character settling for being a mistress her whole life, too in love to let the male lead go.  _ Please  _ Yanjun thought as he packed away his bag and prepared to leave,  _ who could love someone that much?  _

 

\--

“Excuse me?” 

 

“Yes?” Yanjun replied, turning around from where he’d been stacking ketchup packets and facing the service counter, “How can I… help you?”

 

Zhu Zhengting, aka captain of varsity basketball and captain of the dance team, aka the hottest boy in their high school (According to everyone else, of course to him Zhengting ranked second next to Zhangjing), aka the second boy he had ever kissed, was standing right in front of him. They’d talked to each other several times, the younger boy was his captain, but this was like seeing a teacher buying groceries, Zhu Zhengting’s existence was meant to stay at school and nowhere else. The sports team was so big, and the other male’s time was already split between to intense activities, they’d never had the chance to really  _ talk.  _  Seeing him, dressed down in a casual t-shirt and jean cut-offs, was shocking enough to make Yanjun pause slightly once he realized who it was.  

 

“My friend forgot their book here the other day, I was wondering if you guys have a lost n’ found?” Zhengting asked, the sun rays streaming in from the windows was hitting the other boy’s back -outlining him in a harsh spotlight- making Yanjun feel like he was looking up at a stage. 

 

“The only book I’ve seen in there is a romance novel, could that be what you’re looking for?” Yanjun asked, body already turning to walk back to where he’d placed the book on a shelf. 

 

“Yes, that’s it!” Zhengting chirped, staying behind the counter as Yanjun lost sight of him. Finding the book took less than a few seconds, he returned to triumphantly place it into Zhengting’s hands. He tapped the keys of the register awkwardly as Zhengting said, “Thank you, Lin Yanjun.” 

 

“No problem, Cap’” Yanjun smiled up at him, lips tugged up even further by how the younger man seem flustered to be reminded of his dual title. “Do we have any trainings coming up?” 

 

“There’s a clinic on Tuesday,  it’s mostly just to introduce the new members and teach the usual drills.” Zhengting offered, long fingers wrapping around the book cover and pulling it close to his chest, “Can you make it?”

 

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be able to?” Yanjun answered, head tilting to the side in slight confusion. 

 

“You have this now, right?” Zhengting asked, exasperation at Yanjun’s slowness leaking into his tone and sounding much more like his captain than the other boy had this whole interaction, “Have you checked your hours?” 

 

“Oh.” Yanjun said rather dumbly, before spinning on his heels and sprinting into the backroom where his and all the other employees’ shifts were printed weekly and stuck to the wall. Tuesday… shit, he had the afternoon shift with Zibo. Yanjun quickly walked back to his captain, starting off with a sheepish tone, “I have work on Tuesday.” 

 

“When does your shift end?” Zhengting questioned, looking more invested than Yanjun had expected him to be. 

 

“Four-ish?” Yanjun sounded out, wondering if he’d have enough time to bike over to their high school or if he could even get out in time for the clinic at all. 

 

“I’ll give them an eating break for thirty minutes, and then come and pick you up.” Zhengting declared, holding his hand out to Yanjun, “Just wait outside for me, okay?” 

 

“I- okay.” Yanjun stuttered, taking his captain’s outstretched hand and awkwardly shaking it. “See you then?” 

 

“It’s a date.” Zhengting replied with a nod, before strolling out of the shop without another word. 

 

\--

 

The scent of daffodils was carried on the breeze that swirled around Yanjun’s body, flattening the fabric of his basketball shorts against his legs. He looked down the street at the neighborhood flower shop, “Papillion”, they must be having a sale or something. It’d been exactly at four that he had shoved his apron into his locker, every single piece of Zhangjing carefully carted back to his room and hidden between his mattress and his bed frame, leaving him plenty of room to store his change of clothes.

Ms. Umu had allowed Yanjun to keep his duffle bag on the floor next to his locker, provided that none of the other employees minded it being slightly in their way. Zibo, being his closest work friend, had privately informed him that if it got the hottest boy he had ever seen to come back during the summer, he’d let Yanjun shove a basketball up his ass if he couldn’t find anywhere else to put it. 

 

So as to not leave his bike unattended at work, Yanjun had walked to the shop today, the weight of his equipment bouncing off his thigh in the early morning air. All this preparation, including him almost ripping his favorite shirt in his haste, for Zhu Zhengting to take his sweet time. 

 

Okay, maybe it was literally only 4:03 p.m. but Lin Yanjun believed in promptness and hadn’t wanted to keep his captain waiting. Now, he wondered if he had time to apply deodorant, something he had forgone in anticipation of being picked up. He set down his bag on the sidewalk, unzipped the main pocket, and was in the middle of swiping the stick onto his skin when an obnoxious beep sounded in front of him. 

 

Yanjun looked up sharply, making eye contact with an amused looking Zhengting as the younger boy’s car window rolled down, cheeks filling with a blush that usually only Zhangjing elicited. 

 

As he was furiously shoved the cap back onto his antiperspirant, hands almost getting caught in his shirt as he scrambled to pull them out of it and grab onto his bag, Yanjun felt like setting himself on fire. 

 

Slamming the trunk of Zhengting’s Subaru closed and hopping into the front seat had given him enough time to emotionally recover, when Zhengting remarked, “You don’t smell that bad, but don’t let me stop you. I’m surprised I’m not covered in the stench of our rookies right now.” 

 

“Are they that bad?” Yanjun asked, surprise coloring his tone as he buckled up and Zhengting pulled away from the curb. 

 

“I think some of them think a bottle of AXE is the same as a shower, and it’s deeply not!” Zhengting joked, eyes flicking to meet Yanjun’s for a second before looking straight back at the road. 

 

“Yikes, then why did you rescue me from my bologna boutique if only to plunge my poor nose into a cesspool of sweat and old Nike smell?” Yanjun replied, cracking a smile. 

Zhengting only smiled back in response, letting silence eek out between them for a few moments before asking, “Um, do you mind if I play some music?” 

 

“No no, it’s fine.” Yanjun assured him, watching as Zhengting turned on his Spotify app and plugged his phone onto the aux cord at a red light. 

 

The next fifteen minutes were filled with the kinds of songs that made Yanjun  miss his friends, that reminded him of falling asleep alone with thoughts swimming in his eyes, there was a song that his heart ache, a song that made his blood sing, and one whose rap part was faster than his pulse around Zhangjing. Yanjun stared out of the window, letting his forehead rest against the cool glass, and letting the music roll over him like the wind over a field of daffodils. 

 

He never noticed the pair of eyes watching his every move, too invested in watching the landscape around him. Sometimes Yanjun would find part of a song particularly beautiful, and he’d turn to Zhengting to tell him about how much he liked the song, when he’d find that the other  boy had turned at the exact same time to probably tell him the same thing. Their minds were totally synced. 

 

When they arrived at the senior lot, Yanjun turned to face Zhengting, saying, “You have to send me a link to that playlist, it was amazing.” 

 

“I would, but I don’t have your number...” Zhengting explained to him, leaning into Yanjun’s space over the center console. 

 

“I’ll give it to you after then.” Yanjun agreed, his smile creating dimples in his cheeks, missing the way Zhengting’s eyes darted down to his lips.  

 

Four hours of sweaty hell, and twenty minutes of multiple bops and great new artists  later, Yanjun reminded Zhengting to send him the link on their way home. Captain had been nice enough to give him a ride, apparently they lived close by each other. 

 

When Yanjun opened his phone and clicked on the link his captain had sent him, a small panic went through him, leading him to check and check and check over and over and over, but after all that investigation, he had reached a final conclusion. There was only one person in the whole world who used “Azorachin” as their username. His chest glowed a little with happiness, Yanjun had gained a new found connection to Zhangjing, even with him being gone for the past two weeks. 

 

\--

 

Zhangjing likes songs about friendship, listens to hardcore rap from the early days of the gangsta period, has playlists full of song covers on the ukulele, and yet, not a single love song makes it way onto his Spotify account. Which is odd to Yanjun, considering that’s what most of the songs ever made have been about, love. Instead, as he cuts wax paper for subs perfectly according to the required measurements at work, lyrics wax poetic over kitchen sinks and aesthetic screaming fills his ears. 

 

There’s an entire playlist devoted to each year of Zhangjing’s life, songs that Yanjun can remember hearing as they were blasted loud enough through Zhangjing’s earbuds. He remembers the band bracelets he had seen his crush wear on his wrists, him listening to every album those bands had ever made allowed him to be familiar with some of the songs on Zhangjing’s account. Piano covers Yanjun had learned parts of from him when they’d hung out downstairs in Yanjun’s parlor; they existed in full songs in these playlists- much more than the few bars he’d committed to memory. An emo phase whose playlist has ironic underscores and x’s in it, complete with a “rawr” that Yanjun knows he thought was cool when Zhangjing did it a few years ago. 

 

Four playlists for each year of highschool, filled with indie artists and songs with live performances that contain the screaming of the names of kids who graduated from their school. Yanjun was never able to attend a concert for “Sad Vegan”, “Rich Turnip”, or their resident English teacher’s viral song, “Speak Chinese”. The album art for some of these songs Yanjun knows he saw Lu Dinghao ink onto his hands every day of his freshman, and for them, their sophomore year. They reveal entirely different sides of Zhangjing to him, with every rhythm he feels like he can trace it back to a time when they were together and his crush revealed this love for music to him, deepening his understanding of the allusion to melodies he didn’t know back then. 

 

The playlist Zhengting had put on in the car, is titled “Hunting, Looking, Praying”. Yanjun’s pretty sure at this point he could recite every word in every song on that playlist; he listens to it while biking to work, while brushing his teeth, while running over to the wildlife reserve, while laying on Sherman’s Rock and wondering what was going through Zhangjing’s head when he made it. The melodies sing him to sleep in the evening, the glow of his phone a night light as Yanjun stares dead eyed into space and thinks and thinks and thinks with thoughts running in circles until his brain tires of sprinting and he slips into dreams that don’t make sense. 

 

It takes him half of a week since he got home that night to find the playlist Zhangjing played when his crush had sex. How does Yanjun know this? Well it’s titled, “Flows to Fuck to” and when Yanjun first read the title, he dropped his phone on his face while laying down in his bed. Feeling more stupid than embarrassed, Yanjun had assured himself that since he was lame enough to let his smartphone hit his face, he must have misread the title of the next playlist. He didn’t. 

 

In a very desperate attempt to forget ever seeing that, Yanjun plays the car playlist again and falls asleep. At the back of his mind all the next day, the thought lingers, it tugs at his attention at work, at the dinner table, and even when talking to Zhengting. 

 

The younger boy had come by the shop to buy seven different subs, all with varying preparation difficulties: ranging from a weird “just bread and cheddar cheese, and nothing else” to a multiple meat, with two different types of bread on top and bottom, specific counts of toppings, and odd sauce combinations that culminated into the grossest sandwich Yanjun had ever made. He’d been ringing up the order, waving away Zhengting’s attempts to apologize and explanations that really only made him more confused, when Yanjun had thought about the forbidden fucking playlist again, making him pause at the register. 

 

“Yanjun?” Zhengting had asked, peachy glitter around his eyes doing nothing to mask the slightly concerned look he was giving him. 

 

“Shit sorry”, Yanjun apologized, explaining that he’d just been distracted lately. 

 

“Is it that playlist I sent you? The songs on it are really good, is one of them stuck in your head?” Zhengting continued, placing a soft hand on the back of Yanjun’s from where it’d been resting on the counter. 

 

“Yeah, it’s a really interesting mix.” Yanjun had found himself mumbling, pulling his hand away to keep calculating the prices of these complicated sandwiches. “I keep listening to it, over and over.”

 

“Oh, I know.” Zhengting said with a laugh, a false grin on his lipstick stained lips that Yanjun wasn’t looking up to see, “When I’m sitting around and waiting for you to text me back, I keep seeing your text bubble pop up for a few seconds, but then it disappears. Eventually I just assumed you were only looking at our chat for the link.” 

 

“Mm”, was all Yanjun had to say to that, his mind somewhere else, somewhere with skin on his, a mouth on his neck, weight on his body, and therefore not paying actual attention to what Zhengting had said, “That’ll be 59.95”

 

“I’ll see you around, Yanjun.” Zhengting had said, before leaving in such a hurry that Yanjun’s shame didn’t have time to kick in and force him to wave goodbye. 

 

Now he was laying down on his bed, headphones in, trying really hard not to think about that playlist. Trying not to think about how nice it’d felt when Zhangjing had tugged his hair, Yanjun tried to ignore the urge to recall the drag of fingers against his jaw, a hand cupping his cheek. Fuck, this wasn’t working. Think of anything else, god! Think of his parents! 

 

Ew. 

 

Yanjun relaxed partially, proud of himself for taking his mind off the subject before his brain forcefully reminded him that his parents weren’t getting home until the next morning, that he had the whole house to himself. 

 

Fuck. 

 

A quick listen wouldn’t hurt, Yanjun decides, just to satisfy his curiosity, nothing more. The song begins to filter in through his earbuds, and just from instinct his eyes slip closed. He can feel his cheeks burning, his hand tensing around its grip on his phone from where it lays on the bedspread next to him. Almost the same position he’d been in that night, when Zhangjing had roughly pushed him against this bed and felt Yanjun up. 

 

Fuck, he remembers the fingers shoving up his shirt, Yanjun’s hand is trailing up to his nipples and tugging at them. A particularly rough twist makes his body squirm on the bed, imagining it’s Zhangjing doing this to him, making him needy like this.  A moan breaks out past his lips, the second song starts. 

 

Yanjun thinks about the way Zhangjing had mumbled praise against his lips, calling him hot for being sensitive. He wonders if the elder would have found this hot, how desperate for Zhangjing’s touch Yanjun is that he’s fantasizing about him to a playlist he fucked to.  Yanjun thinks about the way they’d been interrupted, the tide of his arousal pulling him to imagine what would have happened if they hadn’t been. 

 

What if Zhangjing had grinded on him, would he have attached his mouth to Yanjun’s neck leaving hickies on his skin like Xukun had on him, or would he whisper dirty things into Yanjun’s ear? Yanjun’s hand slips down into his pj pants, pulling his cock out and imagining it’s his crush’s hand instead. He thumbs the slit of his head and hisses between his clenched teeth as the third song begins. 

 

Zhangjing would have stroked him nice and slow, eyes dark and heavy on Yanjun’s face, making him close his eyes in embarrassment at the look he’d be giving him. Whines falling from his mouth would have been swallowed by those lips, he’d have bucked his hips for sure if Zhangjing had sped up. Just like he did now, hand speeding up on his own cock, thinking about that voice tugging at his ear, calling him a pretty baby, telling him to be patient, that Zhangjing would make him feel so good. Oh fuck-

 

Hot heat crashed into his entire body, Yanjun’s muscles jumped as he came into his hand, pants parting his lips. The music still blasting in his ears as he came down from his orgasm, nipples rubbing uncomfortably against the fabric of his shirt. He opened his eyes to stare at the white of his ceiling, feeling his chest rise and fall and the need to cleanse his skin was building. 

  
  


The only companion Yanjun showered with that summer would be shame, but it wouldn’t be the last time he washed cum off his skin. 

 

\--

 

The second location out of the four listed in Zhangjing’s notebook was a run down music supply store in the poorer section of their town, with boards over one of the windows and weeds growing in the piles of dirt in the crack of the sidewalk in front of the entrance. As Yanjun pushed open the door, cool air conditioning whooshed past him, the smell of old paper greeting him instead of an employee. 

 

An open space serves as a hallway between a long dusty glass counter and a massive row of floor to ceiling shelves, the layout reminds Yanjun of an odd cross between a college library and a gun shop. He walks forward, keeping his eyes peeled for any employees, but finds no one as his snow white Keds step carefully over the oddly crunchy carpet. Yanjun trails his fingers on the tan metal of the shelves, feeling dust collect on his fingers but not minding because the metal is cool unlike the heat swamp that awaits him once he leaves. 

 

Zhangjing had described this shop as “heaven, hell, and happiness” written in bold red ink, and reminding himself of a biweekly sale on albums with green art on them. Yanjun had originally found this to be cute, not knowing Zhangjing could be so meticulous about an unimportant detail, but now as he randomly chose an aisle and walked down it; Yanjun just hoped his quest to understand that man wouldn’t land him in the hospital lacking kidneys. Thank god, he wasn’t wearing the clothes he was forced to wear on Sundays, the all white ensemble had made him a target all his life for bullying, and that wouldn’t stop in a closed off shop in the middle of the day. 

 

Although to be fair, the only difference between how he dressed for Sundays and how he was dressed today was the color of his jeans and that his white button up had a black continuous line design on it. Feeling uncomfortable with the heavy silence, Yanjun turned his attention away from the pretty korean album art of a flower on a pastel pink background and quickly walked down to the other end of the aisle. 

 

Oh.

 

Right in front of him was a wall covered with pictures, posters, and flyers. Numbers were written and crossed out in a never ending sea of inks, aspiring artists promoting their Soundcloud accounts with low quality print outs of their albums tacked through the stucco of the wall, and pictures ranging from being in black & white and framed to polaroids of the year Yanjun was born, to cute print outs of selfies in front of crowds in bad lighting. What was astounding about it, was that a picture of Zhangjing and another boy had been taken in front of this wall, though Yanjun hadn’t expected to find the answer to his question of where it’d been taken to be given to him today, he was overwhelmingly happy. 

 

“Bro?” A voice sounded behind him, scaring the shit out of Yanjun. 

 

“Fuck!” Yanjun exclaimed, jumping from his stationary position and whipping around with a hand on his chest to find a teenager with pale skin, lightning bolts shaved into his undercut, and a Supreme shirt leaning against the shelf behind him. He seemed like the kind of underclassmen that exuded fuck boy energy. “Shit, dude, you scared me!” 

 

“Oh, sorry.” The boy’s eyes went wide, all traces of fuck boy completely erased as he tilted his head in concern and placed a warm hand on Yanjun’s shoulder, “Are you alright, bro?” 

 

“... I’m fine.” Yanjun mumbled, frankly confused and little emotionally exhausted from beating himself up over jacking off to Zhangjing’s playlist and now this, “Do you work here?”

“Yeah, I do, bro.” The boy answered, taking his hand off of Yanjun’s shoulder and stepping out of Yanjun personal bubble. “Do you need something in particular?” 

 

“I was wondering when your biweekly sale of green albums is.” Yanjun said weakly, inwardly cringing at how weird he sounded, even though he was going to be a senior, being embarrassing in front of any one was enough to make him want to shrivel up inside. 

 

“Oh!” The boy exclaimed, his voice never rising above his seemingly usual soft tone, despite his obvious surprise at Yanjun’s statement, “It’s tomorrow.” 

 

“Okay then”, Yanjun paused awkwardly, disappointing sales people was one of his weaknesses, “I guess I’ll be seeing you tomorrow then.” 

 

“Yes.” The boy just stood there grinning sweetly at Yanjun, “I’m Ziyi by the way bro. If you need help tomorrow, just ask for me at the front counter since we’re bros.” 

 

“Okay, Ziyi.” No way in hell was Yanjun telling this boy his name, not even for Zhangjing. He would drag someone with him tomorrow, he was abiding by the the girls bathroom rule of never going alone when dealing with this music shop. “See you then.” 

 

Yanjun spun on his heel and almost sprinted out of the shop and out onto the sidewalk to hop onto his bike, his lunch break was almost over anyways. The dead grass rustled from the breeze created from the speeding tires as he pedaled away. 

 

Back in the store, Wang Ziyi texted his gege about the cute new customer and asking him how running away was going. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope y'all liked this :) please comment if you did 
> 
> If you comment on anything, please tell me if the masturbation scene was okay, I don't really write those and I hope it wasn't badly done.


	3. Jun-Jun and Jungjung's Day of Fun!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zhu Zhengting and Lin Yanjun become closer, while Yanjun finds more clues about Zhangjing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is late, we're going to be in their hometown for a another chapter or two and then it's off to college and Zhangjing

Forks and spoons gently clinking against 200 year old china, silverware gleaming under a Victorian era chandelier, and a pristine cream table cloth from before the Prohibition, it was Sunday. Dinner was served at the same time it’d been served for the past 17 years, the guests seated all around the dining table were the same -save for one- the usual roster was missing a certain You Zhangjing. The atmosphere was dim without him, the whole table seemed more quiet. 

 

The first week after his crush had skipped town, Yanjun had dreaded Sunday dinner due to several questions circling his head: Would the You’s still come without their son? If they didn’t, would his family just eat alone? Or would a new family be sitting down in the same spots, with some stranger sitting in Zhangjing’s seat? 

 

As it turned out, he’d worried for nothing. 

 

Only a few minutes late -for the first time ever- the You’s walked into the foyer after being let into the house by their family’s maid. Yanjun’s father made a cheap joke about tardiness, and that was it. Yanjun wonders if they came at the normal time, and spent those few minutes standing outside on their front step, he wonders if they debated on whether or not to knock or to return to their empty house. A house sunken in shadow, a house without its son. 

 

Dinner had gone smoothly, for once Yanjun actually paid attention to the adults’ entire conversation, interjecting his own opinions once in a while. He didn’t know he spent that much of Sunday dinner just looking at Zhangjing, but the difference his voice made in the discussion was interesting.  Even his mother noticed, smiling at him and remarking that she was happy he was breaking out of his shell, and talking more. 

 

The statement had made him pause, setting down his water glass back onto the tablecloth and furrowing his brows, all his life he’d only said two things at these diners. “Thank you” when something was thrown his way, and the usual cold joke at the end. Breaking routine felt wrong, it felt as wrong as the empty seat across from him, the chair backing having little flecks of glitter that Yanjun always noted being stuck in Zhangjing’s hair or on his skin. 

 

At the end of dinner, right after he'd told his pun -ignoring the missing sound of his favorite laughter- the adults all stood up to head to the parlor. But this time, Ms. You looked at him, with an odd look in her eyes, and asked if he would like to come and sit with them. 

 

Overwhelmed with the urge to keep something normal, Yanjun had replied that he'd felt sick and thus retreated upstairs. When he played Zhangjing's car playlist in his ears, Yanjun closed his eyes and prayed for Zhangjing to come back. 

 

\--

One late night, Yanjun had been stuck with the odd urge to look up Zhangjing’s old social media accounts. If his Spotify had revealed such hidden depths to his crush, maybe there were things Yanjun had missed all these years of liking every post mere seconds after Zhangjing had uploaded them. With the only light source in his room coming from his phone, Yanjun dived deep into Zhangjing’s history, his crush being one of those people who never deleted anything. He was looking for one boy in particular, but this was proving to be harder than he’d thought. 

 

That one night, Zhangjing had brought up a boy named Cai Xukun, and even though Yanjun  should have known who he was, he wasn’t exactly sure. According to his friends, of which he did not have many, Cai Xukun was the most popular boy at their school, but Yanjun couldn’t recall a single time he’d ever met him. It only took a quick search to find his account, and request to follow him, like what seemed everyone else at his high school already did. Unfortunately, the oh so popular boy had an album cover as his profile pic, so Yanjun couldn’t even find a picture of what he looked like. 

 

As he scrolled past years worth of photos, Yanjun noticed a single account that’d been commenting on Zhangjing’s pictures ever since the older boy started high school. An account that Zhangjing affectionately called “Kunkun”, but the following for this account was significantly lower than Cai Xukun’s official page. In contrast, the amount of posts this account made skyrocketed past the number on the other one, it seemed Yanjun had found his finsta. 

 

After requesting to follow what Yanjun was pretty sure was Cai Xukun’s second account, he closed his phone and set it down on the blankets next to him. The dark lighting in his room took a second for his eyes to get used to, the top of his desk covered with Zhangjing’s old things. Not anything that was obviously his of course, but small things like a pencil he’d seen the other boy use to poke Lu Dinghao in the arm and had found in the random pen cup meant for customers at work, or the tube of chapstick he’d found in Zhangjing’s old locker. 

 

Several of the papers he’d found in the locker were outlines for work out plans, foods to avoid, and “motivational” messages written by Zhangjing for himself to see. Having them made Yanjun feel uncomfortable, he remembered how Zhangjing’s body image issues had been broadcasted all over their church circle back when they were younger, but he hadn’t thought it would have affected the older boy up to this day. 

 

A lot of the diet plans, inspired by the bodies of idols, sounded so unhealthy for Zhangjing’s body. There are dinners Yanjun can remember when Zhangjing’s parents had commented on how much he was eating, how big the amount of food he’d grabbed off of the serving plate, and especially how often he’d been compared to Zhangjing over the years. 

 

At first it’d been the Zhangjing being praised for his chubby cheeks, how cute and soft the older boy was. Chubby bunny, the adults had cooed at him. Yanjun had always been a bony child, the only amount of fat he had was on his face, and that’d made him look sickly when they’d been young. A little later, Yanjun was forced to tag along with Zhangjing to soccer practice where their skin bronzed and Yanjun was the one with the “black” skin. A fact that everyone never forgot to point out was that Zhangjing always managed to become pale again during the winter. 

 

But then they got older, and the negative comments, lightening lotions, and copious amounts of sunscreen Yanjun received from their families’ social circle, didn’t even come close to how passive aggressive the adults had gotten with Zhangjing. When Yanjun looked at the little pieces of paper, he knew these compliments and pieces of advice were supposed to be kind, but he could still recall the way Zhangjing’s face had changed after they were said. 

 

“I’m so proud of you for choosing some veggies on your plate this time, Zhangjing.” 

 

“You look thinner!” 

 

“I heard celery is great for weight loss, it’s zero calories so you can eat a whole bunch.”

 

“It’s so cute, even after all your diets, you still have the squishiest cheeks!”

 

The first time Yanjun had read these little slips of paper, his chest had ached, why did Zhangjing write these down? Why had he kept them with him at work? Yanjun remembered when Zhangjing had become insistent he eat more food during Sunday dinners, way back in the beginning of highschool, now he can look back and see it was to cover up how little Zhangjing had served for himself.  

 

The change in Zhangjing’s body during high school had been unnoticeable to most when it was happening, but Yanjun remembered watching the weight slip off of his crush’s body like it was never there. Gradually, Zhangjing had lost over twenty kilos over the course of a single  year. Yanjun never once said anything, not knowing how to properly express his concern for the older boy, but he’d tried to compliment Zhangjing whenever he got the chance. 

 

Each slip surely came from someone Zhangjing had known, not all of them Yanjun could identify, but one of them was something he was certain he’d said. The guilt ate at him, it came unbidden at random times of the day ever since he’d read it. The worst part of it was, Yanjun couldn’t remember when it’d happened, but the thought of Zhangjing saving this cut him deeper than he thought. 

 

Now Yanjun lies in his bed, and all he can hope is that Zhangjing felt strong enough to leave those hateful little slips behind. In the darkness, Yanjun curls his fist in the t-shirt Zhangjing’s letter stained, and hopes he’s happy, wherever he is. 

 

\--

 

Last Sunday dinner had ended peculiarly, instead of having to decline Ms. You's invitation outright, Yanjun had been saved from answering by the sound of their doorbell ringing. 

 

Yanjun running to the door and opening it had revealed Zhu Zhengting in a loose tank top and sweats with glasses on. Yanjun had shifted on his feet as Zhengting's eyes traveled down his body, not for the first time hating how he dressed on Sundays. 

 

The family maid quietly informed him that his mother wanted to know who this stranger on their doorstep was, Yanjun leaned slightly back, closing the door a little with his hand, and told her to tell his mother it was his Captain. 

 

As she'd walked down the hallway to deliver his message, Yanjun had peered out at Zhengting and asked what he was doing here. 

 

"We said we'd practice together a couple days ago, remember?" Zhengting had answered, his collar bones catching the moonlight and his tone confused. 

 

"No", Yanjun hissed, realization had flooded into him as he understood what had gone wrong, "I said we could practice in three days on Friday, as in tomorrow." 

 

Before Zhengting could respond, Mrs. Lin herself had made her presence  known behind them with a discreet cough. Yanjun had automatically reached out to wrap a hand around Zhengting's and stepped out onto the front stoop, yanking the younger boy down into a bow with him. 

 

"This is Zhu Zhengting, my basketball captain." Yanjun had introduced them, ignoring the surprised gasp Zhengting had let out when they'd made contact, "Zhengting, this is my mother." 

 

"Hello." Zhengting had said, not quite reigning in his surprise at meeting Yanjun's parent, "It's wonderful to meet you."

 

"Thank you", Yanjun's mother had smiled at them, before turning to Yanjun, "You can practice outside, just tell us when you're finished." 

 

And with that, Mrs. Lin had closed on the door on both of their faces, the sound echoing into the night. 

 

It took less than a few seconds before Zhengting had tightened his grip on Yanjun's hand, not meeting his eyes while saying "It is three days from Friday though." 

 

"What?" Yanjun had exclaimed, trying to catch Zhengting's eyes but failing, his head tilting in confusion, "No it's not."

 

"Yes it is" Zhengting had argued, coming a little closer to him, his captain's body somehow warmer than his in the night air despite the younger being in a thin tank, "Friday, Saturday, Sunday. That's 3 days."

 

"Dude, no one counts like that." Yanjun had narrowed his eyes and finally let go of his hand, "And I never said at my house?"

 

"Everyone counts like that." Zhengting had met his glare for the first time, "And since you weren't picking up my calls, I assumed you just forgot."

 

"Sure", Yanjun had said sarcastically, "Cap I can't practice in this, but I also don't want to go back inside for a while. Sorry, you can leave if you want. I'll just sit out here for a little bit." 

 

"Well, what you're wearing does look really… uncomfortable." Zhengting said, his eyes obviously eyeing Yanjun’s pants and shirt with the buttons buttoned up all the way to the collar, "I can stay. We can just pass the ball back and forth."

 

"Oh." Yanjun blinked up at him, a slight blush fanning across his cheeks at not thinking of that, "Thanks for the help then." 

 

"Always." Zhengting answered, before stepping off into Yanjun's front lawn and looking at the basketball hoop at the end of his driveway, then he'd said rather quickly, "You'd freeze to death if I let you stay out here alone. Let's go."

 

\--

 

"Um..." Yanjun had awkwardly began, not quite sure how to break the silence between him and Zhengting, "Do you want to play 20 questions?"

 

"Oh", Zhengting had bounced the ball once between them, his eyebrows going up with the basketball, "Sure."

 

"What's your favorite color?" Yanjun had started, tossing the basketball back to him. 

 

"Peach." Zhengting had answered, easily catching the ball between his hands and pausing before thinking of his question, "Do you own any pets?"

 

"No", Yanjun was already more relaxed than he'd been the whole time Zhengting's been here, "How long have you been doing dance?"

 

And so it goes, trivial questions and the basketball going back and forth between them, until near the end of their twenty set, a serious question popped up. 

 

"Oh no..." Zhengting had said cutely, his face scrunching together, "I don't think I have one..." 

 

"Um...", Zhengting had spun the ball in his hands in thought, "What makes you stay up at night?" 

 

"Well, usually it's homework", Yanjun had joked, feeling his feet starting to ache from standing in one position for so long, "But right now, I think it's because I miss someone." 

 

The tone of his voice had shifted to softer level, better suiting the inky blanket of night that wrapped itself around them. Quietly he’d asked, "What about you?" 

 

"Love." Zhengting had simply said, letting the ball stay in between his hands for longer than usual, "Have you ever been in love, Lin Yanjun?" 

 

"Yes." Yanjun had revealed, thinking about soft lips and curly hair, "Have you?" 

 

"I don't know, which probably means no." Zhengting's following chuckle was tinged with sadness, "Was You Zhangjing your best friend?" 

 

"No." Yanjun had replied quickly, "Why would you think that?" 

 

"Because most of your answers tonight involved him in some way, and you guys were always in the same place at school." Zhengting had said with a shrug, while Yanjun had sardonically thought that they were always in the same place because he was always trying to follow Zhangjing around, "Do you have a best friend?" 

 

"Not really." Yanjun answered honestly, noticing how Zhengting's arms had developed goosebumps from the cold, "I think this is the last question but, why do you dance?" 

 

"Because I love it." Zhengting stated, catching the ball one last time. 

 

"You know Cap", Yanjun pointed out, "You seem to do a lot of things for love."

 

"Everything I do is based on love." Zhengting looked up, over Yanjun's head and house, into the stars above. It suited him, that kind of yearning gaze, it transformed his skinny captain into the type of man who stood in movie posters, the hero that stared up at the sky and found within it the answers to the universe. 

 

"Nowadays I think I'm beginning to be like that too." Yanjun said for the sake of saying it, not really thinking of what he was doing this summer in that light before his words had been exhaled into the night air. 

 

"Come on inside", Yanjun had wrapped his arm around Zhengting's shoulder, "You look really cold."

 

That time he didn't bring Zhengting upstairs, but Yanjun did make him a warm cup of tea. Yanjun made sure to choose one that Zhengting would like, explaining to him as he rummaged through the cupboards why he was picking it: he noticed Zhengting took longer to eat a chocolate bar with orange rind in it because he probably didn’t like it so any tea with hints of orange was a no-go, he knew that Zhengting liked sweet things so it wouldn’t be too strong, and finally he picked a tea that had petals from the flowers that  Zhengting had said were his favorite to receive at dance shows. Although these gestures meant nothing to him, but if it was Zhangjing doing this to him, Yanjun might have been able to see things the way Zhengting saw them.

 

\--

“This place looks sketchy.” Zhengting declared, standing next to Yanjun as they both stared down the music store that following Zhangjing had led him to. 

 

“I’ve already been inside, there’s nothing to worry about.” Yanjun said, shooting a big smile in Zhengting’s direction. He held his hand over his eyes to block out the setting sun, the oranges and pinks that splashed across the sky matched with the eyeshadow Zhengting was wearing today. 

 

The only response Zhengting gave him was a rather unimpressed look, not even blinking when Yanjun pouted at him for ruining “Jung Jung and Jun Jun’s Day of Fun”. As Zhengting whined about being dragged along for an adventure probably ending up with their organs being sold on the black market, Yanjun shushed him when they entered the music store. 

 

The two of them had met up an hour after practice, the old boy had walked towards Yanjun outside of the store in an entirely new outfit consisting of jeans and a pin-striped black and white button down, complete with a choker. He looked quite nice, and Yanjun wondered why the younger boy had tried so hard, when all Yanjun had done was go home and take a quick shower. 

 

“You didn’t have to come if you didn’t want to.” Yanjun pointed out, feet following the worn-in track on the carpet along the wall-to-wall counter, “Seriously if you’re scared I’ll be okay if you leave, Cap.” 

 

“I can’t leave you when at the end of practice you come up and start talking about how you’d never thought saying you’d sell your soul for a song would be taken literally.” Zhengting replied, the forearm encircled by Yanjun’s hand flexed in his grip, “Inside and out, this does look like the kind of place to do that sort of business transaction. I can’t help but be curious.” 

  
“Well you know what happened to the cat.” Yanjun said in a sing-song voice, letting go of Zhengting to tap his fingers in agitation against the counter and draw patterns in the dust resting in thick layers atop the glass. 

 

“Meow. Fuck you, Lin Yanjun. Meow.” Zhengting deadpanned at him, swatting at the hand that’d been halfway through the prettiest snowflake Yanjun’s ever drawn, “Don’t, it’s dirty.” 

 

“Furry.” Yanjun snorted, bumping shoulders with Zhengting and flashing a smile that grew even bigger on his face once he got one in return. 

 

They stayed like that for a little, both of them smiling at each other with the dust particles floating and turning rose gold in the sunset beams between them, that same stuffy air that smelled like paper and that probably had microscopic bits of CD’s and original scores in it. Yanjun didn’t mind the silence, unlike with a lot of people it felt comfortable to be with Zhengting and not talk, it reminded him of the rare days when Zhangjing would stare at him on his bed and not speak until he went home. Back then he’d felt like he was being studied, but Zhengting seemed content to just stare at him, eyes darting all over Yanjun’s face, faster than dragonflies. 

 

“Are we friends?” Zhengting asked, and though the question should have shattered the mood in the room, it in fact heightened it. Warmth and light suddenly intensified in the small shop, not the slightest bit suffocating, but more like waking up a little too warm in bed with all of the sun shining on you. 

 

“Of course.” Yanjun answered, realizing that it was true. Over the course of this summer’s beginning, Zhu Zhengting, someone who’d only been at best an acquaintance, had become his friend. He was in fact, the only person Yanjun had ever shown how much he knew about Zhangjing, even if Yanjun hadn’t yet told him how deep his feelings ran. 

 

The moment, if you could call it that, ended when Zhengting suddenly looked down at his hands, still smiling, sending a grin to his palms like a schoolgirl. A quick glance beyond his friend revealed a certain Wang Ziyi, shaved lightning bolts and all, just creepily standing there and watching them from behind the counter. 

 

A sharp inhale was the only reaction he gave the younger boy this time, Yanjun’s breath stuttering in his lungs once his eyes made sense of what they were seeing. Zhengting though? Zhengting’s head whipped around to see what Yanjun had looked at and promptly let out a little shriek and jumped closer to him. 

 

Wang Ziyi’s eyes widened in surprise and he took a step closer to them, “Sorry, I didn’t want to interrupt.” 

  
“It’s fine.” Zhengting replied, beating Yanjun to answering, his voice slightly strained as he adjusted his clothes. “We’re here for the sale?”

 

“Wow, ge.” Ziyi’s face seemed to soften entirely, losing all of its creepy vibes as he smiled at Yanjun, “You brought me another customer.” 

 

In a weird way, call it intuition, Yanjun didn’t feel like Ziyi was talking to him. Outside the wind blew, the sun finally descending below the horizon and plunging the world into sweet darkness as heavy clouds gathered above their town, it was beginning to rain.

\-- 

 

Green is the color of grass beneath a sapphire blue sky, a place for the indie band members’ feet to stand on their album cover. Green is the color of the walls of the Emerald City behind the jazz soloist’s profile. Green coats the image of a leaping jaguar, Andy Warhol style. An entire bookshelf, from floor to ceiling is filled with green albums. There’s no system to it, all different genres of music, cassette tapes to CD’s to vinyls; the only unifying concept is the color green. 

 

Yanjun only got to look at a few shelves last time, he’d never even got to see this section of the store before he’d talked to Wang Ziyi. He stared in amazement, green albums weren’t something he ever actively thought about, but seeing so many in one place made his eyes widen. From beside Yanjun, Zhengting seems to be having difficulty grasping the concept as well, hands drifting forward without his control and lightly tracing the embossed covers. 

 

“This doesn’t look like the rest of your store.” Yanjun noted, turning to Ziyi as Zhengting sank to the ground to analyze an album on the bottom shelf, “Are there other color coded sections?”

 

“No, it’s just this.” Ziyi answered with a small smile, his hands stuffed into his pockets, “My gege thought it would be a cool idea.” 

 

“Really?” Zhengting asked, now fully seated down on the carpet with his legs crossed like a child, and an album in his hand.

 

“Actually, I think he originally meant it as a joke, but it does surprisingly well.” Ziyi admitted quietly, squatting down and picking up a rather small box, covered in small paper 3D flowers and green stems. A mini garden the size of his palm, “There’s different kinds of  music mediums in here, too. This is a usb with a playlist on it, you can listen to it anywhere without internet and we sell an adapter of usb with an aux and lightning split so you can also listen to it on your phone.” 

 

“Wow”, Yanjun took the box from Ziyi’s outstretched hand and studied it, “I’ve never heard of anything like that.” 

 

“Me neither.” Zhengting added, looking up from his spot on the carpet, the overhead lights creating shadows from his hair on his forehead. 

 

“How much is it?” Yanjun asked, heart beating a little faster in his chest. The little box had writing on it, hand writing he’d spent his whole life trying to read, a way of dotting the I’s and crossing the T’s that he could identify anywhere. 

 

“You’re in luck.” Wang Ziyi smiled at him again, his soft voice cascading through the air much like the dust that floated down from the top shelves, “Due to the sale, it’s only 12.”

 

“Sold.” Yanjun said softly, gazing at the wonder in his palm, his fingers itching to scour the shelves for more things with Zhangjing’s handwriting on them, questioning why it was there in the first place.

 

“I’ll take it up to the front if you’d like.” Ziyi offered, the younger boy’s slightly uncomfortable habit of staring directly into Yanjun’s eyes making it obvious that he was sincerely trying to help. 

 

“No, thank you. I’d like to hold onto it, if that’s alright.” Yanjun replied, hands carefully curling around the usb box and trying to rest it by his side without crushing the flowers. 

 

“Alright then”, Ziyi said calmly, sending another soothing smile in both of their directions before he turned on his heel, and walked away, “I’ll be at the counter if you need anything.” 

 

Yanjun waited until he was out of sight, before leaning down and asking Zhengting if he wanted anything green. 

 

“I only really want this Jolin Tsai album.” Zhengting answered, holding the CD in his hand while  beaming up at Yanjun, “What you’re gonna get is pretty cool, and the box is really pretty.” 

 

“Thank you.” Yanjun carefully ran his gaze over everything on the shelves in front of them, searching for that familiar handwriting. When he was sure he’d found the only object Zhangjing had interacted with, he turned to Zhengting and offered his hand, “C’mon, let’s browse some of the other sections and get going.” 

 

Zhengting took Yanjun’s hand with a smile, and the pair walked off, looking at any albums that caught their eye. They stumbled upon the record section, which Zhengting gleefully ransacked and scooped up a vintage Stevie Wonder album, claiming it was his favorite. They gradually made their way back to the wall of photos in the back, Yanjun taking his time to see if Zhangjing appeared in any of them. 

 

It took a few minutes of staring at the wall to locate a group shot of five people, taken in front of what looked like a club at night, and with his crush in the very back, his face only visible from the eyes up due to Zhangjing standing behind two very tall girls. Yanjun blinked, stepping closer to the wall, only then realizing that he’d never let go of Zhengting’s hand until now. 

 

Tentatively, Yanjun unpinned the photo off of the wall, flipping it over to find writing on the back. In his crush’s handwriting, “Dachang Durby” was inscribed with the date of “January 19th”. Stupidly, Yanjun also noticed it was in the same blue ink that Zhangjing had written his farewell letters in. 

 

He stood in silence for a bit, going back over the stuff he’d found in Zhangjing’s locker at work and wondering if anything in it had related to a “Dachang Durby”. In his musings, Yanjun completely forgot about the younger boy standing next to him, almost jumping when Zhengting suddenly spoke. 

 

“Wow, I can’t believe there’s a photo of Cai Xukun in this place.” Zhengting exclaimed, pointing at a blond boy in the photo, looking over Yanjun’s shoulder, “And hey, Zhangjing’s in it too- the runaway who stirred up the whole town.” 

 

“That’s Cai Xukun?” Yanjun blinked, looking at the blurry and badly lit photo and trying to identify his crush’s:… hook up? Lover? Friend? in the shot, “He looks different than what I expected.” 

 

“This was taken during his weird formal phase, he started a trend of wearing dinner jackets to school, don’t you remember?” Zhengting asked, bringing back a memory from Yanjun’s sophomore year when the students at his school had worn odd parts of suits with their normal clothes, “Now you couldn’t catch him dead in a grid suit or hair slicked back like that.” 

 

“Is his hair still blond?” Yanjun asked, curious to know any features he’d be able to spot in a crowd, as the task of  messaging a graduated senior -with the excuse of “wanting to know more about them” and not coming off like he was hitting on him- seemed insurmountable at the moment. “Do you know him?”

 

“Of course I do, Yanjun.” Zhengting blinked at him, a hand coming up to flick his forehead, “The only party you’ve ever gone to was at his house, and it was hosted for me.” 

 

“Really?” Yanjun was surprised, the party where he’d kissed Zhengting was a celebration in honor of their state championship win and he’d just assumed the house it’d been held in, was his captain’s house. The party also happened to line up with Zhengting’s birthday, so it’d been held on the day of. Other than the kiss, the only details Yanjun remembered from that night were that Zhangjing hadn’t come and the massive amount of lying he’d had to do in order to be able to go. “So you’re close?”

 

“Not especially, we’ve fooled around a bit.” Zhengting admitted, still shaking his head at what Yanjun guessed was the fact he’d gone to a party without knowing the host, “At the time we were the closest we’ve ever been, so when the dates all lined up, he got the perfect excuse to throw a party.” 

 

Yanjun was still in the process of digesting the fact that his captain and  _ the Cai Xukun _ had fooled around and he’d never known until now, based on the way Zhengting had so casually said it, it seemed like common knowledge. What if his captain knew about Zhangjing’s relationship with Xukun? Zhengting suddenly narrowed his eyes, and Yanjun felt himself tense as the younger boy looked down at him. 

 

“You’re not one of those guys who won’t admit he’s gay and is homophobic, are you?” Zhengting asked, his tone eerily only a little angry. The lack of strong emotion and tinge of humor only made the other more terrifying, as if he was daring Yanjun to say ‘yes’. 

 

“I’m not gay.” Yanjun said automatically, his response like a knee-jerk reaction, a reflex trained from years of homophobic jokes and comments that’d taught him to always, always deny it. But this was Zhu Zhengting, admittedly the first boy he’d really _ really _ kissed, so there wasn’t anything to fear, “I’m not homophobic either. I’m just… questioning, I guess.” 

 

“Oh, okay. That’s totally cool. ” Zhengting sent a relieved looking smile at him, all traces of his previously tense aura completely wiped out. “If it helps, you don’t have to decide anything right away. Identity is an always evolving thing.”

 

“Thanks?” Yanjun replied, happy that Zhengting hadn’t pressured him into revealing any more information. The love he held for Zhangjing had burned like a bright flame in his  heart for years, he kept it close to his chest and hid it under his skin, letting its warmth wash over him. It was precious, and he feared that bearing it to the world would expose it to the harsh winds of reality. “Wanna go to the front now?”

 

“Sure.” Zhengting smiled at him, and for once walked in front of Yanjun. He followed the younger boy right after snapping a quick pic of the group photo and together they wandered through a twisting maze of the store’s aisles. 

 

Wang Ziyi looked as still as a statue when they finally found their way back to the front, his eyes softly closed and breathing not even stirring a single dust particle on the countertop. The weight of his entire chin rested on his upturned palm, his elbow pressing into the glass. Though Yanjun had decided the younger boy wasn’t as creepy as he’d originally judged him to be, the way his onyx eyes had opened the second they got close enough to him was enough make Yanjun’s pulse race slightly. 

 

“Are you ready?” Ziyi asked, not sounding even remotely sleepy.  The younger boy held out his palms for their purchases without an answer, as if he already knew their answer. 

 

Yanjun watched with wonder as Ziyi opened a cabinet behind him and revealed an old fashioned cash register, with typewriter-like buttons and completely made of metal. The boy carefully pressed each button, the till popping out with a cheery  _ ching! _

 

“Do you want a bag?” Ziyi turned to them, his eyebrows raised questioningly at them. Zhengting politely answered for both of them, and Ziyi opened another cabinet behind the counter, this time pulling out plain white bags. 

 

With a small tug at his heart, Yanjun remembers whenever Zhangjing had borrowed clothes from him, the older boy had returned them in these exact bags. The more time Yanjun spent in this music shop, the more he learned about his crush. It seemed these shelves had volumes of things to tell him about the missing love in his life, if he only bothered to look. 

 

Yanjun accepted the bags with a smile and thanked Wang Ziyi for everything. As Zhengting paid, he couldn’t help but notice the way Ziyi’s eyes warmly curved upwards as the younger boy rung up Zhengting. When Yanjun pushed open the door, Ziyi softly called after them, “Come back soon, geges!”

 

\--

 

“Thank you for coming with me, you really didn’t have to.” Yanjun said, as the duo neared his front lawn. They were standing right next to his mailbox, absently mindedly Yanjun stepped onto the curb and rested his hand on its cool metal. So odd to think that Zhangjing had been in this same spot, and left a letter that he’d never be able to read. 

 

“It wasn’t any sort of hassle”, Zhengting assured him, placing his hand on top of Yanjun’s, “I like being with you.”

 

“Me too.” Yanjun smiled at the younger boy, today he’d had more fun than he’d thought he would. When he’d woke up this morning all he’d thought about was work and practice, and now he had a gift from Zhangjing and confirmation in his friendship with Zhengting. 

 

“We should do this again.” Zhengting blurted out, a nervous smile playing on his lips, his teeth biting on the part he’d carefully applied some pink lip tint. “If you want?” 

“Of course”, Yanjun felt himself melt a little on the inside, it was cute to see his normally so confident captain being nervous about them hanging out as friends more, “Don’t worry, I had a really good time.”

 

“I’m glad.” Zhengting responded as he looked down at the bricks that made up Yanjun’s front walk up, they’d arrived to just outside of his front door. “I guess this is it.” 

 

“Yeah”, Yanjun admired the way Zhengting’s makeup looked in the overhead light of his front porch, the other lights in his house were turned off since his parents had left to go grocery shopping. “I’ll see you soon?”   
  


“I’ll text you.” Zhengting promised, before suddenly swooping down and pressing a quick kiss to one of Yanjun’s cheeks. Soft lips brushed against his skin for a moment, before pulling away.

 

“Um”, Yanjun said unintelligently, his cheeks warming up slightly and his head misfiring in confusion. 

 

“It’s how the French say goodbye”, Zhengting explained, his cheeks staining a deep pink, “I uh- thought it’d be cute, since we’re friends now.” 

 

“Oh.” Yanjun felt a smile spread across his face, he’d never had any of his friends kiss his cheeks before. That’d felt rather nice, “Don’t they do it twice though?”

 

“Do you want to do it twice?” Zhengting asked breathlessly, exhaling a shocked laugh. The younger boy looked strangely flustered, which was odd that a little kiss between friends had him blushing like this if Zhengting had ‘fooled around’ with someone before. 

 

“Why not?” Yanjun shrugged, before reaching up and kissing each of Zhengting’s cheeks. It was a little awkward, and he closed his eyes out of reflex, but it was the effort that counted. He grinned up slightly at Zhengting, feeling a rush of happiness at giving his friend a sign of appreciation. Most of the guys he knew wouldn’t even shake hands for longer than a few seconds, much less kiss each other goodbye. 

Zhengting shook his head a little at him with a smile on his face, although Yanjun didn’t know why. He leaned down and cupped one side of Yanjun’s face before gently kissing the spot where Yanjun’s smile had created a dimple in the other cheek. Pulling back the other boy had an oddly tender look on his face, “Good night, Lin Yanjun.” 

 

“Good night.” Yanjun replied, staying on his front stoop until the other boy had made it to his car. In the shadows of the night Yanjun waved goodbye to his friend with both hands, ignorant of the fact he held Zhengting’s heart in those same hands. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> loving someone who loves someone else really sucks for zhengting

**Author's Note:**

> I'll probably update Pan Producer in the next week, it's harder to write on mobile because things flow better when I have more room to move on an actual keyboard. 
> 
> Also I might continue this into a college au Zhangjun fic because i like those and I want to see Yanjun chase him all the way to a degree. But probably after I finish PP

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Air of Innocence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15197741) by [lost_stickie_note](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_stickie_note/pseuds/lost_stickie_note)




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